


Wash Away These Illusions

by onstraysod



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: All Is Not As It Seems, Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, One Shot, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onstraysod/pseuds/onstraysod
Summary: Thomas Jopson has just been elevated from the position of steward to Third Knight of Duke Francis of Crozier's realm. But when Sir Edward, the First Knight, returns from campaigning, Jopson must take up a steward's duties again and fend off the roguish Edward's unwanted - or are they? - advances.Written for Day 10 - "In Hot Water" - of the12 Days of Carnivale





	Wash Away These Illusions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lafiametta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafiametta/gifts).



> A gift for lafiametta, inspired by her [glorious medieval moodboard](http://lafiametta.tumblr.com/post/179035365152/edward-little-thomas-jopson-medieval-au-a-gift).

“This is awfully good of you, Thomas.” Duke Francis of Crozier pulled his fur cloak tighter against the chill and smiled apologetically at the younger man. “ _Sir Thomas_ , I should say. But you know how I am. It takes me some time to grow accustomed to change.”

“I know, my lord. I don’t mind.”

“But I’m certain Sir Edward will appreciate it, given the length and hardship of his journey.” The duke held up a flask of whiskey, gleaming amber in the candlelight, his expression like that of a lover. “Yet to have you take up again the duties of a steward, on the very day you were raised to knighthood…” Francis shook his head. “It is a mark of shame upon my duchy. If only Sir James had not deigned to grace us with his illustrious presence right now and usurped the services of all our remaining stewards. No doubt Gibson and Armitage are busy brushing his gold cuffs and steaming curls into his hair.” The duke sneered.

There was a burst of laughter and applause from the dining hall and Jopson stepped away from the adjoining door. “You should rejoin the feast, my lord. They will be getting up to mischief without your presence.”

“No doubt.” Crozier’s cloak swept the flagstones. He paused, placing a hand on Jopson’s shoulder. “I know you and Sir Edward have not been the best of friends ere now,” he said. “And though I do not know the reason for the distance between you, I feel sure that your elevation to knighthood will bring you closer.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’m quite certain you’re right.”

As the duke rejoined the festivities in the great hall, Jopson withdrew into the darker part of the castle, taking a narrow spiraling stair up to the west tower where the knights’ chambers were located. His heart thundered in his chest, blood churning like surf in his ears. Sir Edward, First Knight of the Duchy, had been absent from Castle Terror for almost three months. What would he make of the news of Jopson’s promotion that very day from steward of the duke’s chamber to Third Knight? And how had three months in the wilderness altered the enigmatic, oft taciturn warrior? At the very top of the tower, the stairs terminated at a heavy oak door, framed by two guttering torches, and Jopson paused to draw a steadying breath. Balling his fists, he felt sweat on his palms and a lightness in his head that almost made him reel in his boots. He pushed past both sensations and opened the door.

The chamber, like those of the other knights, was spacious but spare in its appointments, befitting the rugged life of duty the warriors led. But it was not without its comforts. The stone walls were hung with thick tapestries to keep out the chill, and lush draperies framed the four-poster bed, casting its interior deep in shadow. Jopson wasn’t surprised to find a fire already laid in the wide hearth - Hartnell was always punctual in his duties - but he was surprised by the number of tapers that were lit, their flames gyrating in every corner. Yet as he closed the door behind him, he saw no sign of Sir Edward and he wondered if perhaps the knight had opted to join the feast rather than retire to his chamber.

“Crozier said he’d reward me well for fetching back casks of his favorite whiskey,” a voice said from the vicinity of the bed, and a shiver cascaded down Jopson’s spine. Turning, he squinted in the uncertain, shifting candlelight, just able to make out a deeper shadow behind the bed curtains. “But I never dreamt he’d send me something as pretty as this.”

Sir Edward rose from the bed where he’d been reclining and, pushing the curtains aside, stepped slowly out into the light of the candles. Jopson’s breath caught uncomfortably in his throat and he took a single step back. The first knight had always had a hard edge, but three months on campaign had roughened him almost beyond recognition. There was nothing left of the polished warrior Jopson had previously known. His raiment of leather and suede was worn and travel-stained, his riding boots crusted with mud. His beard had grown in full and dark, and his hair hung thick and lank almost to his shoulders. Gold rings glimmered on every finger and the hilt of a dagger was visible at his hip. As Jopson stared, Sir Edward walked toward him, his movements feral and slow. He watched Jopson from the top of his eyes, his head hung low like a wolf driving its prey into a thicket from which it would never escape.

“Thomas.” Edward paused a few feet distant, a hungry grin shaping his lips. “All dressed up in a bright new tunic, like a present to be unwrapped.”

“I’ve been elevated,” Jopson told him, keeping his voice even. “Just today, in fact.”

“Hmm. My congratulations.” Edward came a few steps closer. “I’ve long looked forward to taking you in hand.” He grinned. “Meaning your training, of course.”

Jopson knew exactly what he meant. “You look like a vagabond,” he sneered, turning away and walking to the hearth. Hartnell had also remembered to put water in the cauldron, good lad. Holding his hand over it to discern its temperature, Jopson noticed that he was trembling. “Like a common man of the road. You must have slept in every ditch between here and the Beaufort Sea.”

“Why don’t you give me a bath, then?” Edward suggested. The firelight glinted in his dark eyes.

The water in the cauldron was beginning to steam. Lips drawn tight in irritation, Jopson took the vessel from the fire and lugged it over to the tub that sat to one side of the hearth. “As a matter of fact, that’s what I’ve come to do.”

“Indeed?” Edward began to circle around Jopson, his gaze raking over the other man. “A curious duty for a knight, but I won’t quibble. It’ll be quite the honor to have a third knight’s hands scrubbing every inch of me clean.”

Jopson emptied the last of the water from the cauldron into the tub, rolling his eyes as he did so. “You can do the scrubbing yourself.” He replaced the cauldron in the hearth and walked to a nearby armoire, from which he took a selection of bath oils and raw herbs. It was tradition to add the dried petals and leaves of plants like lavender and chamomile to a knight’s bath, but to his disappointment Jopson found none ready to use. He grabbed a mortar and pestle and began grinding up the plants himself.

“Here’s a better idea,” Edward continued. Jopson’s back was turned to the other man but he could hear him pacing the flagstones, back and forth like a restless caged animal, drawing ever nearer. “Why don’t you join me? Now that’s a lovely thought. Thomas, naked and soft from the bath. Ready for bed.”

Jopson ground the pestle down harder and faster, pulverizing the dried petals. “Save your talk for Hodgson and Irving. I have no wish to know the filthy contents of your thoughts.”

“Ah, but Hodgson is always preoccupied with musings on his harpsichord, and Irving too busy with his rosary. Neither would appreciate my detailed recitation of the delights I anticipate finding in the supple body of the duke’s comely steward.”

Leaning too hard upon the pestle, Jopson knocked the mortar off-balance; the bowl wobbled and tumbled off the table, hitting the floor with a thud and scattering its contents. Swearing beneath his breath, Jopson bent to retrieve it.

Which was, as he immediately realized, a grave mistake. Straightening quickly and turning around, cheeks flaming, he saw Edward’s eyes move up to meet his, having been fixed on the sight presented by Jopson’s previous position. “Can you imagine the contents of my thoughts now?” Edward asked, the tip of his tongue stroking along his bottom lip.

Glaring coldly, Jopson turned back to the table. “I have no wish to.”

The first knight came up behind him, standing so close to his back that Jopson could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He started to dodge away but was arrested by the sensation of cold metal pressed to the angle of his jaw. Edward had pulled his dagger and was holding the tip of it gently against Jopson’s neck.

“See, I don’t think that’s true. I think you do want to know.” The first knight spoke in a hoarse whisper, his lips moving against Jopson’s ear, breath spilling hot beneath the other man’s collar. “I think it excites you to learn what I’m imagining. So I’ll tell you. Right now I’m thinking about bending that lovely arse over one of Crozier’s whiskey barrels and ravishing you until you beg for mercy.”

“I will never beg for mercy from you,” Jopson spat. Edward chuckled.

“Spoken like a true knight,” he said, and he licked slowly along the shell of Jopson’s ear. “Better to bear it in stoic silence, eh?”

Jopson twisted out of Edward’s grasp. “You forget to whom you’re speaking,” he hissed. “I’m a knight of the duchy now, same as you, and thus you know exactly what that means. I’ve bested a man in single combat and I’m not afraid to challenge you if need demands it. Now step out of my way so I may discharge my duty. The sooner we part company, the better - lest we do something we’ll both regret.”

Smirking, Edward sheathed the dagger and held up both hands. “As much as I’d enjoy grappling with you, Thomas, I’d rather it were between the sheets than in the tilting yard.” He stepped back, allowing Jopson to pass. The former steward dumped the ground flowers into the bath.

“Shall I leave the room while you disrobe?” Jopson asked, dreading the answer.

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”

With a sigh, Jopson turned back to the armoire to fetch towels. His tunic, his vambraces - the whole room seemed unbearably hot. He stared into the interior of the cabinet, listening to the clink of buckles being unclasped, of leather creaking and sliding against skin. He heard both of Edward’s boots drop to the flagstones and the clatter of his dagger in its sheath.

“Afraid to watch?” Edward asked, his voice mocking. “A bit cowardly for a knight, that.”

Thomas Jopson was anything but a coward. Slowly and purposefully, he turned and stared at Edward, arms folded impassively across his chest, and if he couldn’t control the flush of color that came into his cheeks, he fought with all his strength to maintain the composure of his expression, keeping it as neutral and placid as an icy sea.

Edward stood bare-chested beside the tub. The light cast by the candles played in golden waves over his skin. His fingers worked slowly at the laces that fastened his breeches, lazily tugging each one free. Holding Jopson’s gaze, he pushed his trousers down his thighs, exposing his manhood. Jopson betrayed nothing of the turbulence inside him, unless perhaps in the hard swallow that flexed the muscles of his throat. He neither spoke nor stirred while Edward stepped out of his trousers and into the water.

“Are you certain you won’t join me?” The first knight sank down into the tub with a pleasurable sigh, leaning his head back against the rim. His arms lay along the tub’s edges, the muscles of neck and shoulders flexed beneath his bare skin. “There’s room enough if you sit on my lap.”

Jopson poured a measure of oil into the tub, averting his gaze until the liquid began to render the water opaque. “I’d like to wash your mouth out,” he muttered, to Edward’s obvious amusement.

“You could always stop it with your own.” Edward leaned further back against the tub, stretching, water coursing in rivulets down the curve of his chest. Jopson wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his tunic. “I’ll wager Thomas’s tongue tastes sweeter than any honey I’ve ever had.”

“This is tiresome.” Grabbing a cloth, Jopson knelt at the side of the tub. “What do you suppose the duke would think if he knew his first knight spoke of ravishing his third?” He passed the cloth none-too-gently over the curves of Edward’s bicep and shoulder.

“That hypocrite?” Edward snorted. “Given how much he wants to ravish Lord Fitzjames, he should say nothing at all.”

“I’ll not hear you speak one impertinent word about our master.” Jopson’s irritation was so great that he hardly realized how enthusiastically he was washing Edward. Rubbing the cloth across the other man’s chest, he seemed to come back to himself only when the fabric slipped and his fingertips passed over the rigid nub of one nipple. Shocked by the inadvertent contact, Jopson snatched his hand back and the cloth fell from his fingers, splashing into the water and sinking quickly out of sight.

Edward’s dark eyes danced with mischief as they met Jopson’s. “That’s a shame,” he murmured, the edges of his lips curling. “You’ll have to go hunting for that now.”

Jopson gritted his teeth. There was nothing else to be done, not if he wished to avoid the accusation of cowardice again. He plunged his hand into the water in front of Edward, feeling around for the cloth. His fingers struck against something solid, firm but giving, and he could only hope it was the curve of the first knight’s thigh…

“ _Close_ ,” Edward whispered.

Jopson pulled his hand away and, in doing so, felt the edge of the cloth against his palm. He grasped it and was pulling it from the water when Edward reached in and seized the front of his tunic, yanking him closer. Their mouths grazed.

“Touch me,” Edward urged. “I know it’s what you want…”

“It isn’t.” Jopson shook his head. “I don’t…”

“You do. Go on. Give in, Thomas.” The tip of his tongue trailed against Jopson’s lip. “Stop pretending…”

Jopson opened his mouth - perhaps to issue a denial, perhaps to warn Edward away - but he said nothing. He merely let Edward’s tongue push forward, until it was sliding over his own; let Edward’s lips press needful against his. Groaning, he let go of the cloth again and put both hands against Edward’s chest, and Edward seized him and pulled him over the edge of the tub, into the water and into his arms.

And then, all pretense fell away.

With a delighted laugh, Jopson wrapped his arms around Edward’s neck and kissed him deeply, pushing his fingers into the wealth of dark hair he’d been longing to touch ever since he’d watched the first knight emerge into the candlelight. Edward moaned into Jopson’s mouth, at his mercy, their roles abruptly reversed.

Pulling back, Jopson grinned. “Well? Was my performance convincing?”

“Too much.” Edward stole another kiss, his mouth hovering against his lover’s. “There were a couple of moments there when I feared you’d come to your senses during my absence.”

“All I’ve done during your absence is long for you,” Jopson murmured, rubbing the tip of his nose against Edward’s cheek, inhaling his familiar and long-missed scent. “Though you were so believable a brigand I wondered if the good and kind and dutiful Edward I loved had been stolen away and some imposter returned in his stead. Yet I must admit: the look suits you.”

“You think so?” Edward smiled, a little bashful. “I was too tired most days to attempt shaving, and I missed the steady hand of a steward to aid me.” He stroked the new hair covering Jopson’s cheeks. “It will take some getting used to, this hardened knight who’s taken the place of my smooth-skinned Thomas.”

“I’m still your Thomas, knight or no.” And as if to prove it, Jopson pulled the tunic over his head and cast it carelessly upon the wet stones. His vambraces and undershirt were quick to join it, and then his bare chest was pressed to Edward’s and their mouths were busily engaged, making up for time lost to distance and separate duties.

Abruptly, Edward broke the kiss, cradling Jopson’s face in both hands and staring at him with something akin to wonder.

“I’m so proud of you, Thomas. Didn’t I always tell you Crozier would make you a knight?”

Jopson smiled. “You believed in me from the very beginning.”

“Because I’ve loved you from the beginning,” Edward said. “From the first moment I saw you.” He kissed the other man tenderly. “Whatever the future may bring, I will be honored to have you at my side.”

Jopson bit back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Instead, he raised an eyebrow in a sharp and wicked arch. “How about having me on your lap?”

Edward could only groan in reply. He pulled Jopson harder against him, then paused in mid-kiss.

“I can’t help but feel a little aggrieved at Crozier, however. What is he about, ordering you to come up and fix my bath on the very day of your elevation?’

Jopson laughed. “Edward, you handsome fool. He didn’t order me. I volunteered.”


End file.
